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Thursday, April 17, 2014

This is a Book Blitz post about the book Dark and Deadly by 8 amazing authors. There's an excerpt and am INTERNATIONAL giveaway below so check it out and you just might like it.I'm fixating on Jennifer Ashley's story because I've read it and it's absolutely amazing.

Eight hot paranormal romances by New York Times and USA Today
bestselling authors. Alpha-male bad boys will fulfill your darkest, most
deadliest desires in these stories about shifters, werewolves,
vampires, magic, special powers and other realms. But only if you dare…
Featuring the bad boy heroes of:
BODYGUARD by Jennifer Ashley
ALEJANDRO’S SORCERESS by Alyssa Day
BEWITCH by Felicity Heaton
DARKNESS FALLS by Erin Kellison
ROGUE’S PASSION by Laurie London
THE FORBIDDEN LIFE OF ALEX MOORE by Erin Quinn
THE MATING HEAT by Bonnie Vanak
TRAPPED by Caris Roane

Excerpt from BODYGUARD By Jennifer Ashley:

The bear climbed to his feet, swung his great head around, and fixed red-raged eyes on Elizabeth.

He was the biggest living creature Elizabeth had ever seen. On all fours, the bear stood about six feet tall at the shoulder, which put his head well above Elizabeth’s. His breath huffed between immense and sharp teeth, his growls rumbling from his throat like thunder. His gaze still locked on hers, he took a step toward her on one massive paw.

Elizabeth brought her hand up, aimed the can of pepper spray at his face, and gave him a full dose.

The bear blinked, drew back, blinked again, sat down on his hind legs, and rocked his head all the way back. Then he sneezed.

The noise exploded into the room like a sonic boom, vibrating papers on the desk and rattling the Victorian prints on the walls in their prim and proper frames.

The bear rose on his hind legs again and kept rising, ten feet—twelve—fifteen, his bulk hunching to fit under the low ceiling. At the same time, his immense body started to shrink.

In about thirty seconds the bear was gone, and a man stood in its place. The man was just as massive as the bear—at least seven feet tall, with chocolate brown hair buzzed short, eyes as dark as the bear’s, an almost square face with a once-broken nose, and a chin and jaw dark with five o’clock shadow.

His arm bore a bloody gash where the bullet had whipped by it, but his body was muscle on top of muscle on top of muscle, not an ounce of fat that Elizabeth could see. And Elizabeth saw it all, because the man was stark naked. Except for the Collar, which had shrunk to fit his human neck, the bear-man wore not a stitch.

He wiped his streaming eyes. “Shit, woman,” he said in a voice that brought down a trickle of ceiling tile dust to whiten his hair. “That itches.”

Giveaway:

If you guys leave a comment I'll enter you for a chance to win one (1) ebook copy of Dark and Deadly. It's open internationally and it'll end on May 10th.

This post is part of the Dark and Deadly Book Blitz organized by Giselle @ Xpresso Book Tours.

A gritty New Adult drama about a young woman’s self-destructive quest to find purpose, self-worth, and love in a broken world.

My name is Elise Duchamp. I’m twenty-three years old and I’m known as the town whore.

No,
not the kind who exchanges sexual favors for money. The other kind. The
kind who gives it all away for free, whenever and however she likes. I
am that girl. The one everyone whispers about and the one none of the
girls seem to like, because all of their boyfriends either want to sleep
with me or already have. Promiscuity is my thing—the kind that slowly,
violently turns my insides black, but gives me something I need.

All
things considered, I’m not completely reckless. I’m safe, and contrary
to popular opinion, I do have a heart. I live in a world of careless
choices, and with those choices come careless people. I cannot judge
them, because I am one of them. I too bow down to the altar of
the self-serving. I am not a good friend. I am not and never could
be anyone’s girlfriend. I’m convinced any goodness in me shriveled up
and died long ago.

But I am a replacement. That is something I
know how to be, and this is a story of the lengths I’d go to in order to
keep it that way.

Meet the Author

Rachael Wade is the Amazon bestselling author of The
Preservation Series, The Resistance Trilogy, and the upcoming sci-fi
series, The Keepers Trilogy. When she’s not writing, she’s busy learning
French, watching too many movies, and learning how to protect animals
and the environment.

Excerpt:

“Stop!” I shriek, thrashing on his lap like a fish out of water. “Ryder, stop!”
He digs at my hip again, sending me tumbling into an endless fit of laughter. My lungs burn because I can’t breathe and my sides ache from the exertion. I topple over and land on my side, and Ryder comes with me, sliding on top of me in one smooth, swift movement. “I think we’ve played enough games for today ,” he says, running the palms of his hands up the sides of my thighs. His thumbs roll slow, soothing circles into my skin before hooking into the sides of my panties to peel them down my legs. My laughter subsides and I look up at him, my chest heaving as I regain my breath. We lie there on the floor in a tangled heap of limbs, while the fire’s warmth gives Ryder’s face a soft glow.
Small pops crackle from the fire and gravitate toward us, saturating the silence.
Lowering his forehead to my shoulder, Ryder kisses the skin there. “Do you feel it yet?”
“Feel what?” Desolation? Helplessness? Excitement? I feel all of those things.
“This.” Ryder’s hand slides down my chest and torso like silk, slipping beneath my skirt, easy as breathing. I gasp as his fingers slip inside of me. “Desire. The same kind I feel for you.”
“You know I do.”
He strokes me for a moment then stops, leaving me panting while he reaches back to the couch to pick up the bowl of ice cream. It’s melted now, each color swirling together like mixed paint. “Feed me,” he whispers, lifting the bowl to me.
My dazed gaze drifts to the bowl. I hesitantly sit up on my elbows and cradle it, watching him curiously as I begin to spoon him the milky leftovers. He accepts a spoonful, then another, groaning in appreciation. He pushes the spoon away when he’s satisfied and I set the bowl down, watching as he brings my hand to his lips. Sucking one finger then the next, he moves slowly from tip to tip, drawing me farther and farther away from our question-and-answer session.
“Ryder,” I breathe.
He closes his lips over my right index finger and sucks, drawing it slowly from his mouth. The mixture of cool and warm coats my skin, and I wonder how I’ll ever enjoy ice cream without Ryder after tonight. “I really want this,” he says. “Us.”
I shut my eyes and he moves in, brushing his lips against mine. “You have us. Right here.”
“Do I?”
My eyes drift open.
He deepens the kiss, murmuring against my mouth. “I’ll never just drive away, Elise Duchamp.”
The words zap me like a stun gun. My voice comes out in a light rasp. Small and breathless. “I’ve hurt people, Ryder.”
He studies me for a moment but doesn’t respond, only deepens his kiss. I cave into him, letting him devour me whole. I don’t know what I can give him. I don’t know if I have anything at all. But I do know that Ryder Jacobson is trouble.
The good kind.

Giveaway:

Blitz-wide giveaway
Prizes - open to US and Canada:
-1 signed paperback + swag and an Elise charm br
aceleta Rafflecopter giveaway

This post is part of the The Replacement Book Blitz organized by Giselle @ Xpresso Book Tours.

“I
would love to see what else your dirty little mouth can do.” With those
little words, my body shivered as a surge of energy zipped into my
body, unlocking something I didn’t understand. My brain started
functioning with a clarity I hadn’t experienced in years. No warring
emotions, just calmness.

This shouldn’t be happening, especially not with him. God. This was going to be a rough damn ride.

“I’ll do my best to break you in slowly, submissive,” he hissed, his voice dripping with raw sex.

Is total submission inevitable?

“When I get you under me, it’s going to be slow, hard, and memorable.” ~ Ryker

I have other plans.

“Go
find yourself a woman stupid enough to settle for less than you're
willing to give. Whose heart you can break without giving a sh*t. This
woman is off limits.” ~ Lightning***WARNING: When Lightning Strikes is an Paranormal Romance intended for mature audiences. Recommended Reading Age 18+***

Meet the Author

Sedona Venez is the author of the New Adult Credence Curse series, and
the New Adult Valkyries: Soaring Raven series. She is a NYC girl (go
Brooklyn!) with a slight obsession with her iPad, Pinterest, and
television shows Pawn Stars and Face Off. Her love of music, tattoos,
rockers, alpha men and wolf-shifters inspires her edgy
paranormal romance novels. She also writes Middle Grade/Young Adult
under her real name, T.L. Clarke

Excerpt:

In a blink of an eye, before I realized what I was doing, I walked over to him, straddling him and cupping his face.His sea-green eyes snapped open. “Light? What the hell are you doing?” The deep timber of his voice sent a shiver down my spine. Damn, it was sexy. “I’m spiraling out of control. And when I get like this, I’m dangerous. And nothing can calm my beast except time to cool down.” I didn’t move. Instead, I ran a finger across the scar on his left eyebrow. Strangely, he leaned his face into my hands tenderly, wrapping his arms around my back. I tried not to blink in shock. Dammit, he was turning out to be exactly the opposite of what I envisioned. Despite his hard, steel demeanor, I felt the passionate streak that ran through his core. He actually cared about his pack and Others. This wasn’t what I envisioned him to be as an Alpha from a ruthless bloodline. I ran my fingers across his well-groomed, dark beard, enjoying the softness. He growled low and sensually. I felt the slight prick of his claws through my shirt, which normally would have sent me sprinting away, but there wasn’t anything normal about this strange connection between us. Slowly, I felt his claws retract and his blunt fingers caress my back. His full focus was on me, the attention giving me little shivers of awareness as we stared at each other, speechless, faces mere inches apart. Ryker leaned into my body, pressing his lips against mine before he sucked my tongue into his mouth. My tongue slid around the tip of his, then rubbed under it. My body pulsed with need, and every cell was focused on him. His hands slid up to my neck, grabbing the back of my head possessively before kissing my throat gently. The contradiction between the hardness of his grip on my hair and the gentleness of his kiss sent a shiver down my spine, my mind imagining all of the other delicious things his mouth could do. What would those big hands feel like on my body? My skin quivered at the thought.

Giveaway:

If you guys leave a comment I'll enter you for a chance to win one (1) ebook copy of When Lightning Strikes + 5 signed bookmarks. It's open internationally and it'll end on May 3rd. (This is separate from the grand prize giveaway!)

She hired him to take her virginity...but now she wants even more.Lori
might be a popular romance writer, but she's never been anything but a
flop with sex and love in her personal life. Still a virgin at
twenty-six and increasingly frustrated by her inexperience, she decides
to take matters into her own hands. She hires a talented, sexy male
escort to take care of her inconvenient virginity.

She assumes
one time with Ander will be enough, but she never dreams how much
pleasure he can make her feel. Once isn't nearly enough. Twice isn't
enough either. Soon, she becomes one of his regular clients.

Lori
knows that nothing would be as foolish as falling in love with her paid
escort, but she's never been wise with her heart. And, despite his
professionalism, he doesn't seem entirely immune either.

Meet the Author

Claire has been writing romance novels since she was twelve years
old. She has a PhD in British literature and, when she's not writing,
she teaches English at the university level.

Excerpt:

Ander looked over, his eyes automatically scanning her body in her cashmere tank and pajama pants. But his gaze didn’t linger. He handed Lori an unopened packet. “Dental dams,” he explained. “For oral sex. I don’t have unprotected sex of any kind.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t be using your services otherwise.” She’d never seen a dental dam before so she studied the packet with interest, glad for any sort of distraction from what would be coming next.
“These are the best quality I’ve been able to find. Very thin and the texture is good. It will still be very enjoyable for you.”
She swallowed hard. “Pretty smug about your skills, aren’t you?”
He made a brief choked sound, as if he’d smothered a surprised laugh. Pulling out a tube of lubricant, he carried it with two dam packets and a couple of condoms to the nightstand. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see whether I’m smug or simply realistic.”
His dry response made her giggle a little, and she walked over to join him next to the bed. When she looked from his slick, sexy good-looks to the large bed draped with a fluffy down comforter, her giggle changed to a nervous gurgle.
“You’re in control of this,” Ander said, holding her gaze with a cool expression. “We do whatever you want to do. I can act however you want me to act. Just tell me.”
“I don’t want you to pretend to be romantic or hot for me or anything. I want it to be...be real. I mean, don’t pretend we’re doing anything other than we are.”
“Understood. I can do that. Would you prefer me to stay in my clothes or take them off?” Ander replied smoothly, not appearing to notice her anxiety.
She thought for just a moment but knew the sight of his undoubtedly fine, naked body would be the end of her nerve. “Keep them on.”
“And you?”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest, suddenly conscious of the way her full breasts were outlined in the clinging tank she wore and that her nipples were visibly tight from her arousal. “I’ll keep them on for now,” she said, “Until ...”
He nodded. “Lights?”
“Off.”
“Is there anything else you’d like? Questions or requests?”
“Um.”
He waited patiently, watching her with an oddly quiet look of scrutiny. When she couldn’t manage to get anything said, he asked softly, “What can I do to make you less nervous?”

Giveaway:

If you guys leave a comment I'll enter you for a chance to win one (1) ebook copy of Escorted. It's open internationally and it'll end on April 20th. (This is separate from the grand prize giveaway!)

Cover Design by Thomas Dorman
Book 1, Precious Sacrifice, (which is part of the Kept anthology) can be purchased here: Amazon

Summary(provided by the author):This is Book 2 in the new Preyfinder series.Book 1, Precious Sacrifice, is currently in the anthology, Kept.
Willow has her hands full scraping out a life in a grungy
neighborhood where drugs and crime are the norm. Life is hard, but it’s
about to get harder. Being transformed into a sexual pet for an alien
warrior may be her only way out.
But Stom, the man she’s been awarded to as a battle honor, has no use
for a female, not when his heart is still in a million pieces.
Though the need to be Stom’s mate is overwhelming her, mending his
heart isn’t going to be enough. His enemies are searching, looking for
the women who are more than they seem, and she’s in their hands before
she discovers she’s more-than-human.
Sometimes it sucks to be a chosen one.

Meet the Author:

Cari Silverwood is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of BDSM stories and dark erotic fiction.

She writes
the way the world should be - dangerous and sexy with bullets piercing
the darkness and lovers wrenched close by ropes. When you need escape,
when you need that rough lover to bring you to your knees, here you will
find stories to singe your fingers. The taste of adventure, the tang of
BDSM, the burn of fantasy run wild. Brace yourselves, if you dare to
read.

And...in this real world, she has a lovely family in
Australia, with the prerequisite teenager who dwells in the dark bedroom
catacombs...a husband who raises eyebrows when he catches glimpses of
what she writes, and a menagerie of other animals barking, meowing, and
swimming about the place.

I used to think I could be a
hero, but one deadly night destroyed that delusion. So I’ve come home
defeated. My military career, my best friend, my purpose—all of it is
lost.

What I find is her.

She’s my best friend’s sister,
and she’s everything I shouldn’t want. She’s on a hopeless quest for
answers about her brother’s death, but those are secrets that can never
come to light. She’s always been a fighter, and she desperately wants
the truth.

I desperately want her.

Someone is trying to
kill her now, and she won’t let me keep her safe. I have to do it
anyway, even if she doesn’t trust me, even if she hates me for it. A man
protects what’s precious to him, whether or not he can ever claim her
for his own. So she becomes my purpose.

I’ll become a hero for her.

Meet the Author

Noelle Adams
Noelle handwrote her first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and currently resides in Virginia, where she teaches English, reads any book she can get her hands on, and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.

She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances.

New York Times and USA Today Bestseller/contemporary romance writer Samantha Chase released her debut novel, Jordan's Return, in November 2011. Although she waited until she was in her 40's to publish for the first time, writing has been a lifelong passion. Her motivation to take that step was her students: teaching creative writing to elementary age students all the way up through high school and encouraging those students to follow their writing dreams gave Samantha the confidence to take that step as well.

When she's not working on a new story, she spends her time reading contemporary romances, blogging, playing way too many games of Scrabble on Facebook and spending time with her husband of 25 years and their two sons in North Carolina.

Excerpt:

As soon as I put weight on my ankle, my leg buckled, and Levi had to catch me around the waist.

I should have objected to the arrangement, but I couldn’t help but like the feel of his strong arm around me, the way I had to lean against his big, hard body.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Twisted my ankle. It’s probably not too bad.”

“Can you walk?”

“I think so.” I put weight on the ankle again, and it hurt like hell, but I didn’t flinch this time.

All my life, I never liked for other people to see when I was hurt.

He sighed loudly and reached out to support me once more. “Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?”

“And why do you have to be so damn arrogant?” I bit out, immediately riling up at his exasperated tone. I tried to pull away from it, but it wasn’t a smart maneuver, since I put too much weight on my twisted ankle. The shot of pain ran through me, stealing my breath.

Down I almost went again.

Levi caught me before I did, and I manfully resisted the desire to jerk away from his arm.

“Can I at least help you get home?” The words were polite and conciliatory, but his tone was not. “Do you think you could put aside your dislike of me at least long enough for me to do that?”

So my first instinct was to snap his head off, but he did have a very small point. It was going to be very hard for me to hobble to my car and then drive home in my current condition. I could probably have done it, but it would take a lot longer and be rather painful.

“Fine,” I muttered. “Thanks.”

“Try not to sound so grateful.” Despite his sarcasm, he was actually being quite helpful, in that he’d already managed to get me moving toward my car. He was supporting quite a bit of my weight, and I was hopping one-legged to make myself feel like I was doing some of the walking myself.

He brought me around to the passenger side of my car and helped me in. As he was leaning over, I felt another sudden surge of attraction.

His face was so close, and his body was right there in front of me. His hands were strong and gentle at the same time as he arranged me in the seat.

I didn’t need quite so much help in getting situated in the seat, but I didn’t really want him to pull away either.

Clearly, my mind was hopelessly disarranged by the fall and near disaster.

He didn’t pull away when I expected, and I started to feel flustered again by his closeness and my response to it. So I said, “I think I’ll be okay just sitting here.”

His eyes lifted to my face, and the dark brown of his looked like melting chocolate. “You think?”

There was irony in his tone, but he still wasn’t pulling away. “Yeah. I’m sure I could drive home if you’d—“

“I’m not going to leave you to drive home with a sprained ankle.”

“I don’t think it’s really sprained.” When he started to move down to examine my ankle, I added, “You don’t have to mess with that here. Just get me home.”

His eyes moved back up to my face.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I appreciate your help.”

I’d appreciate it more if he’d back off a little so I didn’t feel so much like grabbing and kissing him.

He reached up toward my face, and my breath hitched, since it seemed like he was going to cup my cheek. Instead, he stroked a hand down my hair, which had messily slipped out of the clip I’d twisted it up with.

I stared at him like an idiot.

“You had dirt in your hair,” he explained, his eyes still warm and sweet like before, but also with a flicker of humor.

Giveaway:

If you guys leave a comment I'll enter you for a chance to win an ebook copy of any book by either of these authors (except Duty Bound) - Find Noelle's book list here, and Samantha's here! It's open internationally and it'll end on May 5th. (This is separate from the grand prize giveaway!)

I’m complicated. Not broken or ruined or running from a past I can’t face. Just complicated.

I
thought my life couldn’t get any more tangled in deceit and confusion.
But I hadn’t met him. I hadn’t realized how far I could fall or what I’d
do to get free.

He has a secret.

I’ve never pretended to be good or deserving. I chase who I want, do what I want, act how I want.

I
didn’t have time to lust after a woman I had no right to lust after. I
told myself to shut up and stay hidden. But then she tried to run. I’d
tasted what she could offer me and damned if I would let her go.

One secret destroys them.

Meet the Author

Pepper Winters is a NYT and USA International Bestseller. She wears many
roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves
dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the
hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her
characters. Oh, and sex... her books have sex.
She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends.

Excerpt:

It was the best kiss I’d ever received, but also the worst. It sparked lust and need in every inch of me. My lips wanted more, my tongue wanted savagery. My skin wanted to bruise because he needed to touch me so badly.

All my thoughts disappeared as I nipped at his bottom lip. He flinched, but a second later he copied, his sharp canines piercing my oversensitive flesh.

I moaned.

I couldn’t take it.

My hands flew up and gripped his shirt. Yanking him toward me, fireworks whizzed in my fingertips; my heart galloped toward exploding with lust. I’d never been so drunk on someone before.

Then I landed flat on my back.

The crack of my skull jangled my teeth. The thick carpet did little to cushion me. My eyes flared wide and I grunted in pain. Fear, hot and terrible, swamped my lust in a dampening wave.

Serena has learned to live with her past, locking her secrets
and nightmares deep inside her. But when her boyfriend of six years
abruptly leaves her, she’s catapulted back into pain, nursing a broken
heart. When indulging in mountains of chocolate doesn’t work, Serena
decides the best way to deal with her shattered heart is to indulge in
something else. A rebound . . .

The night she swaps her usual Sprite for tequila, she meets James. The encounter is breathtaking.
Electrifying.
And best not repeated.

James
is a successful entrepreneur in Silicon Valley. A man who has amassed a
fortune by taking risks. A man who has shunned commitment completely,
and still does. He’s the exact opposite of Serena. But sometimes
opposites attract. Sometimes they give in to burning passion. Sometimes
opposites are perfect for each other.

James is everything her
damaged soul could want. His kisses are intoxicating, his touch out of
this world. He makes her forget. He grants her peace from her pain. But
as they grow closer, Serena discovers she isn’t the only one with a
past. James carries the scars of a past much darker than hers. One that
has left him damaged, hurt, and wary of love. A past that gives him the
power to shatter her.

Now James and Serena must find a way to mend one another. Or risk losing each other forever.

Meet the Author

My name is Layla Hagen and I am a New Adult Contemporary Romance author.

I fell in love with books when I was nine years old, and my love affair with stories continues even now, many years later.

I write romantic stories and can’t wait to share them with the world.

And I drink coffee. Lots of it, in case the photo didn’t make it obvious enough

Excerpt:

"Red suits you," a voice calls behind me. I'm suddenly very grateful for being squeezed in, because my knees seem to have turned to rubber. But my relief only lasts for a few seconds, because the music starts and everyone around me disperses, moving to the dance floor.
I don't fall. I can't move, either.
When he finally comes into view, my breath is cut short. There is something about seeing his beautiful blue eyes behind a mask that makes every inch of my skin burn.
So it wasn't the tequila last night.
"Dance?" He extends his hand.
"I can't dance." Out of the corner of my eye I see Sophie watching us, crestfallen.
"That makes two of us," he says, though unlike me, he doesn't sound panicked in the slightest. I really can't dance. Especially not waltz. But he doesn't lower his hand, and instead of protesting further, I raise my hand and place it in his. As if in slow motion I see him putting his
other arm around my waist, and pulling me so close to him that I feel his every breath against my skin. This doesn't help the burning sensation. At all.
"You came," he says and his lips curve into last night’s same conceited smile.
"I make a habit of honoring my invitations," I say, surprised by how aggressive I sound. I bite my lip and look away, fixing my gaze on the highest point of the glass arch.
"Did you and your friend arrive home safely last night?"
Small talk. Fantastic.
"If safely includes Jess throwing up twice on the way home, then yes."
"Quite a party girl, your friend," he says appreciatively.
"What makes you think I'm not one?" I regret the question instantly. Thinking that a former math whiz kid isn't the most hardcore party girl at Stanford is not an absurd conclusion to draw. But his answer takes me by complete surprise.
"Having a steady boyfriend usually means you spend your free evenings and weekends… otherwise."
"You asked Dani to spy on me?"
"Of course not," he says with fake affronting. "I just know how to get the info I need from her."
"What happened to old-fashioned questioning?"
"It's old-fashioned," he answers with a smirk. "I like to consider myself modern."
"Make that lazy and sneaky." I finally unhitch my gaze from the ceiling and look him in the eyes again. They are so much darker than a few minutes ago.
He tightens his grip on my waist. "Fine. Tell me three things about you."
I try to put on my most serious look. "I grew up in London and San Francisco, used to play volleyball in a minor league, and want to work in investment banking." Did he really think I'll make it easy for him?
"Let me rephrase," he smirks. "Tell me three things about you I won't find in your CV. Three dreams."
The next sentence rolls out of my mouth despite my firm resolution to torment him by not really telling him anything about me. Especially not the weird things.
"I want to taste every single recipe in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, get myself kidnapped by elves and locked up in Rivendell, and attend the midnight release of the next book about the wizarding world that I know Rowling will write. If that last thing fails, I want to learn how to fly on a broom, at the very least."
He bursts into a cascade of laughter. But it's not in the slightest mocking or mean. It's warm and heartfelt.
And loud.
"Your turn," I say, in an attempt to stop him, because we are attracting less-than-friendly stares from the couples around us. "Stop laughing like a maniac and tell me three things about yourself. Three fears."
He laughs for a few more seconds before assuming a solemn face.
"I hate snakes and always keep a light on when I sleep. And I suffer from chronic commitment phobia."
His words hit me like a whiplash. Amazing how lighthearted and playful he throws them at me.
"So I've heard," I say, trying—and failing—to keep my voice steady.
"I wanted to make sure you know it from me," he says in a soft voice. Yet for all the softness, it still feels like whiplash.
"That's very considerate of you."
Why do his words have this impact on me? Why do they have any impact at all? I guessed a while ago how things are. I wish we weren't dancing so I could run away. Put as much distance as possible between him and me. My wish is not far from being granted. Though I haven't listened to many waltzes in my life, I'm sure the orchestra is playing the ending tones right now. I try to distance myself from his intoxicating presence, but his grip on me is firmer than ever.
"I saw how you were looking at me in that bar," he whispers with urgency.
Crap, so Jess wasn't exaggerating. I do my best to put on the poker face she mimicked on our way home, then I remember I have a mask on anyway.
"Why did you invite me here?"
"Why did you come?" he asks, and there is a slight uneasiness in his voice.
"Because you invited me," I answer as sardonically as possible.
"I was curious," he says quietly.

“Drake isn’t just someone I
love, he’s the one I love the most in this world. He’s my best friend,
my breath, my everything. I realize in this moment that the true
reason I’m on this journey to find Drake is not just because I miss him
and want him back, I’m also missing a huge part of me. Until we’re
together again, my life isn’t complete. Without him I’m not
whole.”-Morgan

“… I’m so sorry I couldn’t go to you. It was
nearly impossible not to but Morgan we wouldn’t be standing here right
now if I had. You found me Baby. When you met me on your first day at
Baylor what seems like a lifetime ago you found me. Only this time I’m
not letting you go.”-Drake

Struggling to get her life back on
track after being left suddenly and inexplicably by (secret) boyfriend
–not- boyfriend and boss Drake Baylor Jr., Morgan Lane searches
the globe to find Drake knowing that the only way to truly live the life
she’s worked so hard for is with him by her side.

Banished to
Zurich, Switzerland by his father after being caught Breaking the Rules,
Drake has nine months to get the European Division of Baylor Industries
back on track. Again, he must obey the rules so that he can hopefully
return to his life with Morgan and take the helm of Baylor Industries.

Everything
is going according to plan as usual for Adrian Thompson who has just
gotten Drake banished to Switzerland as part of his plan to get Morgan
(his college sweetheart and hopefully future trophy wife) back in his
life for good. With a little help from Lana Lane, Morgan’s mother,
Adrian is hoping to have Morgan wearing his ring by New Year’s Eve.

After
a few months of being wooed by old flame and now boss Adrian, and
without so much as a word from Drake, Morgan hesitantly accepts Adrian’s
invitation to join him for New Year’s Eve in St.Moritz Switzerland.
Foiling Adrian’s plan, a “chance encounter” finds Morgan back in Drake’s
arms.

Will Drake and Morgan be able to overcome the distance and
time that is now between them along with a few of the hurdles that life
has thrown their way? Morgan and Drake are once again faced with
figuring out how to start their new future together- this time not
Breaking the Rules, only Bending them.

Meet the Author

LK Lewis lives in Northern Michigan with her Husband and 3 year old son.
Born
and raised in Michigan, LK spent her early twenties chasing the man of
her dreams (now husband of 8 years) around the country, residing in both
New York, and Portland, Oregon. While living in Portland, LK attended
East West College of the Healing Arts, and is now a Massage Therapist,
Makeup Artist, and Spa/ Boutique Owner.

When LK isn’t working,
writing, or chasing her son around, she enjoys boat days, playing in the
sunshine, and giggling with her husband. You may also find her on
twitter most days, especially live tweeting when The
Bachelor/Bachelorette, Sons of Anarchy or The Walking Dead is on. Check
her out, you may enjoy her colorful commentary!

Excerpt:

Drake
It took every last cell of energy in my body not to turn around when Morgan called my name. I saw her walking to the baggage claim and turned around hoping she wouldn’t notice me. Of course she did though, we’re drawn together. I could have been perfectly camouflaged into my surrounding and she still would have sensed me in the room. It absolutely kills me that I can’t talk to her but I know that if I give in and break the rules even just this time, my father will find out and even the last month or so without her will be for nothing.

I want to run and grab her, have that moment that movies are made for when I call her name and we run toward each other with smiles, and tears, and don’t stop until we crash into one another all lips and teeth and kisses and hands in hair passion while those witnessing clap and cheer and cry. But instead I play by the rules, only bending them slightly as I play voyeur, watching her every move as she collects her bag, calls for a cab, takes a hopeful yet heavy hearted breath and departs from the airport and my presence once again.

Giveaway:

If you guys leave a comment I'll enter you for a chance to win one (1) ebook copy of both

Breaking the Rules and Bending the Rules (both to 1 winner). It's open internationally and it'll end on April 25th.

This post is part of the Bending the Rules Book Blitz organized by Giselle @ Xpresso Book Tours.

Callie Evans would rather hide
out in her DJ sound booth than face the fact that she’s in love with
her best friend, notorious campus hottie Tayber King.

Tayber
turns hooking up into an art form–no drama, no commitment, no lies, and
nobody gets hurt. Nobody but Callie, that is. When she sees
an opportunity to explore his sexier side using a fake online profile,
she grabs it. Now her uninhibited alter-ego ‘Sasha’ is steaming up
the screen, and Callie is breaking all of Tayber’s rules.

As Callie and Tayber get closer, online and off, she knows she has to confess. And risk losing him forever.

Meet the Author

Shari Slade is a snarky optimist. A would-be academic with big
dreams and very little means. When she isn't toiling away in the
non-profit sector, she's writing gritty stories about identity and
people who make terrible choices in the name of love (or lust). Somehow,
it all works out in the end. If she had a patronus it would be a
platypus.

Excerpt:

She changed into a tank top and threadbare shorts before slipping into her desk chair. I’ll just check my school email, ten minutes tops. She was lying to herself, bargaining with the devil. I will not open his profile. I will not send him a message. Making that fake profile for herself last month had seemed like such a good idea at two o’clock in the morning, after a few beers with Jessa and a few agonizing hours of watching Tayber hook up with some random girl at The Brick. She just wanted to know what she was missing. In graphic detail. Sasha let her find out. Except it had only made her wanting worse, and it was such a wrong thing to do. So she’d stopped. At least a dozen times.
But nothing stopped him from messaging her. There it was, blinking away. She should ignore it. Delete, delete, delete. It wasn’t even for her. Not really. It was for Sasha. And she’d sworn she’d never be Sasha again.
Tay: Hey
How could three tiny letters be so suggestive? She could hear him in her head. He’d say it kind of soft, but forceful, like the whole universe of his carnal experience could be contained in one word. She pictured him hunched over his laptop, shaggy hair eclipsing his face, shirtless, bare feet hanging off the end of his extra-long bed.
She had to answer. She wanted him any way she could have him.
Sasha: Hey yourself.
Tay: Why am I always happy to see you?
Sasha: Because I’m awesome like that?
Tay: You are. I’m looking at your picture right now. So beautiful.
Not me. She’d sent him a picture of her cousin, on spring break in Cabo three years ago, filling out her bikini and pulling a duck face for the camera.
Sasha: Not really
Tay: Inside and out
Sasha: Laying it on thick tonight?
Tay: I can’t stop thinking about you.
It was torture. The ninth level of Hell. Everything she’d ever wanted him to say was there on the screen, except it wasn’t really for her.
Tay: I wish I could touch you.
And she was burning, flaming. If he were saying these things in person, she’d disintegrate. She tugged on her tank top, pulling the thin cotton away from her itchy skin.
Tay: Is that okay?
She was practically molting, slipping right out of her skin on the spot. This disastrous attraction might kill her. She squeezed her thighs together and shifted in her seat.
Sasha: I want to touch you too.
Tay: Skype?
Sasha: Can’t, still no webcam.
Shit. This was going to be the end of it, again. Who didn’t have a webcam? She held her breath, waiting for the little indicator to flash that he was answering. A full minute. He was probably frustrated, pulling that mop of hair out of his face now, tugging it into a tiny ponytail. A minute and a half. He’d lost interest. Any second now his light would go out.
Tay: Too bad
She exhaled, a rush of relief that left her giddy.
Sasha: Sorry
Tay: Don’t you want to see me?
Sasha: More than anything
Tay: I want to see my hands on you.
Was he touching himself now? She traced a figure eight over the soft skin below her navel, chasing the flutter building there. She’d never be able to tell him the truth, and this was never going to be enough.
Sasha: You’re touching me now
Tay: Where?
Sasha: My belly
Tay: Lower. I’m touching you lower. I’ve got my fingers between your legs and you’re so wet for me.

Giveaway:

If you guys leave a comment I'll enter you for a chance to win one (1) ebook copy of The Opposite of Nothing It's open internationally and it'll end on April 21st.

Fresh
off the success of her teen drama TV series Carolina, California, movie
executives want her to headline their blockbusters, and record
executives are vying for the chance to release her first solo studio
album.

When Mia turns eighteen, she spreads her wings–and makes
more mistakes than she can count. What the world doesn’t know is that
her mother is much worse than any drug she could shoot into her veins,
and despite her best efforts, Mia can’t quiet the screech of her past
nor the cacophony of fame.

Until she meets him.

Liam
Walker knows all too well what it’s like to fall from grace. A soulful
rocker with a one-hit wonder under his belt, he believes in love–and he
believes in Mia. He doesn’t know how to save what’s left of his career,
but he knows that they belong together. He breathes for her.

If only she would let him in…

Meet the Author

Ava Claire is a sucker for Alpha males and happily ever afters. When
not putting pen to paper or glued to her Kindle, Ava likes road
tripping, karaoke, and vintage fashion.

Excerpt:

Copyright 2014 Ava Claire

What’s the worst that could happen?
Mom’s words taunted fate, daring it to bring its A game. The minute I stepped through the doors of Cole Productions, I knew fate would deliver in spades.
The lobby looked like Andy Warhol had vomited all over the place. The walls were highlighter yellow, pink, and green. Oversized throne inspired chairs were splattered around the neon room, the cushions wrapped in loud animal print. Black and white photos hung at odd angles and on closer inspection, my stomach tumbled. They were shots of crotches and breasts with censor bars censoring absolutely nothing. The only thing that didn’t make my eyes hurt or my stomach churn was a white desk in the center of the lobby. A scantily clad woman was perched behind it, flipping through a magazine and twirling a platinum blonde lock around her pinky finger.
There was something familiar about her that I couldn’t put my finger on. When the girl looked up and her blue eyes rounded with glee, it clicked into place. The hair, complete with one side shaved, the safety pin earrings, and Nirvana shirt was a copy of one of my signature looks before I went back to brunette--and stopped trying to be edgy.
When my twin left her desk, and I saw that she rounded off the ensemble with a pink miniskirt that barely covered her vagina and knee high combat boots, I winced. I had probably looked just as ridiculous.
“Hi,” I began, clearing my throat uncomfortably. “I’m--”
The blonde skipped the formalities, throwing both arms around me and squeezing so hard she nearly cracked a rib. “Are you kidding? I know who you are! You’re Miiia!” She turned a two syllable name into four. Her teeth were blindingly white. “I’m such a huge fan. The biggest.” She pulled back, stars in her eyes. “I’m Tempest.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Tempest was dialed up to 100, and I always enjoyed meeting fans. “Badass name. It’s nice to meet you.”
Tempest hitched a breath, her intensely blue eyes welling with tears. “Nice to meet me?” She nibbled on her bottom lip as she fanned herself. “I can’t believe Mia Kent thinks it’s nice to meet me!”
“We have an 11:00 appointment with Mr. Cole.” Mom ended our moment with her rude, clipped tone. For a woman that seemed hell bent on micro-managing my career, she always had little to no patience for my fans. She forgot something key--there was no Mia Kent without them. The day I took them for granted, or failed to appreciate how amazing it was that people stood in all kinds of weather to get my autograph, bought merchandise from my show, or even emulated my style, was the day I stopped deserving them.
I flashed Tempest an apologetic smile. “Is Mr. Cole available?”
She returned it with a toothy grin. “I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.” She skipped back to her desk, a dial tone sounding above the trance music thumping from the speakers.
A gruff voice answered after four rings. “What is it?”
Tempest was either used to it or so happy go lucky that she was unfazed by her boss’s growl. “Mia Kent is here for her appointment.”
“How long have you worked here, T?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Nearly a year. You know I don’t want my VIPs waiting.”
The light in Tempest’s face dimmed. “I’m sorry, Sol.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry,” he berated her. “I want you do your job. I swear if you didn’t look hot as hell in a skirt, I’d fire your ass.”
The light went out completely. Tempest slumped in her chair like she wanted to disappear. The rumors were true--Solomon Cole was a dick. And it was obvious that they had done this song and dance before. From the way Tempest’s voice trembled, it still hurt every time.
“It won’t happen again,” she said softly.
He hung up on her.
I exchanged a look with my mother, but there was no sympathy on Mom’s tight, wrinkle free face. There was only impatience. “Let’s go, Mia. Mr. Cole is a busy man.”
Tempest scrawled our names on two visitor’s badges and handed them over with a broken smile. “Sol’s office is on the 15th floor. It’s kind of a maze up there, so Liam, his assistant, will meet you at the elevator.”
I thanked her, then followed my mother into the elevator. More trance music was pumped through the speakers. Instead of inspiring the need to dance, it filled me with dread. I had reconciled the meeting by telling myself the rumors about Sol’s douchebaggery were exaggerated by disgruntled ex-employees and diva former clients. He’d just dashed that argument in one fell swoop by degrading his secretary and flat out saying he only kept her around so he could ogle her.
I drew a barely steadying breath as the doors slid open. When I left the family channel, I knew I might have to deal with the ugly side of Hollywood, but I wasn’t expecting this. I was debating leaving my mother with Sol and making a run for it when I saw him.
He had to be 6’3 because I had to look up to meet his electric green eyes. They were the warmest eyes I’d ever seen. Like an embrace, a kiss that sent warmth sprawling over my body. His hair hung in dark brown waves that dusted his green eyes. I bit my lip to keep images of running my fingers through his hair at bay.
His lips were luscious as they spread into a smile. Two dimples winked in his cheeks and I knew that he belonged in my bed. His cobalt blue button down shirt was rolled up to the elbow and I saw the tease of color beneath the cuff. Tattoos? I dropped my gaze to what was going on beneath the equator--and it was just as muscled and tempting as the rest of him.
Desire clouded my view. The handsome stranger jutted out his arm to keep the elevator door from closing.
“Hi.” Hs voice was deep and hypnotic. “I’m Liam.”
Liam. I caressed the name in my mind, but the pulsing lust quickly stalled. Liam--the personal assistant that would be delivering me to Sol Cole.
I hesitated, time standing still. Should I go with the devastatingly hot guy who would take me to the devastatingly jerky guy? I swallowed, debating it until my mother gave me a small push in his direction. It was the smallest of motions--and it sent me crashing into a wall of muscle and scent. Liam smelled like Irish Spring soap, cloves, and heaven. I held on a little longer than was necessary, wondering if he was thinking what I was thinking as his smile broadened.
“Thanks for catching me,” I purred. Screw playing coy. I pushed my chest against his. My body approved, nipples aching against the thin material of my bra. Lust, rooted deep in my core, came rushing to the surface. I bit my lip as my wet juices kissed my panties.
“Anytime.” His voice stroked me as his eyes darkened in a way that made me melt. Was there anything about this guy that wasn’t deliciously sexy?
Only one way to find out...

Summary(provided by the author):In her stunning New Adult debut, The Wicked We Have Done, Sarah
Harian introduced readers to the Compass Room: a twisted experimental
jail where the guilty and the innocent suffer alike. But breaking out
was only the beginning…

Even though she’s escaped,
twenty-two-year-old Evalyn Ibarra is anything but free. She’s desperate
to return to a life that no longer exists, but prying reporters
continually draw her back into nightmarish memories, using the tabloids
to vilify her. Bad press is the last thing she needs during the trial of
the year: the case that she and her fellow survivors staked against the
Compass Room engineers. A case that could terminate the use of the
inhumane system forever…

But in her dreams, she is still locked in that terrifying jail.

When
she wakes, someone is trying to communicate with her in secret, through
strange and intricate clues. As Evalyn follows their signs,
she uncovers a conspiracy that goes so much deeper than her own ordeal.
A dangerous intrigue that only she can bring to light. One that will
force her to work with the one person she doesn’t want to see.

The person who owns her heart…

Meet the Author:

Sarah Harian grew up in the foothills of Yosemite and received her B.A.
and M.F.A. from Fresno State University. When not writing, she is
usually hiking some mountain or another in the Sierras, playing video
games with her husband, or rough-housing with her dog.